Remember my Love
by jblove224
Summary: A PickYourOwnJonasBrother Oneshot. Imagine the perfect man, on the perfect night, with the perfect idea of where your life is going. Now imagine that getting all shot down, literally.


**I wrote this at four something in the morning, pick your favorite jonas and imagine him during this story.  
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** hope you enjoy:)**

**disclaimer: i do not own the jonas brothers**

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**There's always one thing you want so bad in life that when the time comes for it to want you just as bad as you've wanted it, it becomes obvious you just cant have it.**

It was one of those nights where you can see the stars twinkling in even the brightest cities and there's just a feeling like nothing can go wrong, but don't be fooled, something can always, always go wrong.

He was supposed to be picking me up for dinner, it was an anniversary and all my friends swore he was going to propose to me that night.

I had gotten all dressed up, just in case, making sure I looked like I deserved a man like him and was pacing the hallway of my apartment, full of nerves.

Every second longer he took the more worried I became; lately luck hadn't really been on my side.

Finally the door bell rang and I swung it open. All I could see was a bouquet of at least two dozen red roses and a body.

I smiled.

He greeted me with a kiss and made sure the flowers were safely in a vase before taking my hand and pulling me out to his new favorite ride, a Vespa scooter.

I asked him where we were going and he simply said it was a surprise.

It didn't really matter where we went, as long as we were together.

He finally pulled the scooter up to base of a very large hill.

I gave him a questioning look and he simply gave me one of those care free grins that had slowly made my heart melt.

Like any gentleman would he escorted me off the scooter and then said that I needed to put on a blindfold so the date could be a surprise.

He could act like such a six year old at times, and I absolutely adored it.

We took our time climbing the hill; we were two young people in love and time always moved slowly for us.

Our hands had a slightly rhythmic swing as we walked and talked, laughing and enjoying each others company.

In the distance I could hear a slight rustle of leaves and a twig snap, I let it slid, determined not to let anything ruin tonight.

Another twig snapped and a sudden feeling of uneasiness took a hold of me.

I don't think he noticed my sudden change in attitude, as he was cheerfully telling a tale about how he and his brothers had once golfed a perfect game, with a little cheating of course.

Another twig snapped and he grew quiet. I asked him what the matter was since I was blindfolded and couldn't see.

He reassured me and grabbed my hand, continuing our walk.

This time instead of twigs breaking there came the muffled sound of footsteps, walking at a steady pace behind us.

I started to panic, it was obvious now we were being followed. He however stayed calm; it was in his personality to stay calm when everything else turns to panic.

His voice echoed off the darkness as he called out, listening intensely for a response.

Nothing.

He insisted we continue our walk even though I desperately begged him we head back and have a night in, watching 'She's the Man' and eating Chinese food from cartons.

He told me this night was too perfect and that there was nothing to be afraid of. I wasn't so sure.

We started walking once again, both obviously a little on the edge. When the footsteps didn't start again I allowed myself to relax a little and enjoy the time we were having together.

He told me we were almost there and I allowed myself to get excited. This could be it, he could ask me to marry him, and we could start a family and have the perfect life together.

However those happy thoughts were soon gone.

Everything after that moment happened so fast.

The running sound, the sickening sound of flesh being beaten, and the yells.

I felt myself being pushed to the ground and I could hear the grunt as he fought back at whom ever was attacking.

I fumbled for my cell phone in the darkness.

And that's when it happened.

A loud bang rang out through the darkness and his defensive yells grew quiet.

I heard a thud on the ground and the sound of footsteps running away.

I sat there, to scared to move, to scared to even breathe. I called out his name out slowly and quietly.

Praying for a response that never came.

I found my cell phone and shakily dialed 911, a gruesome idea forming in my head about what lay before my black blindfold.

When the operator answered I started to cry hysterically.

They asked my location and stated, answering all they needed to know as they tried to calm me.

They had no idea; it was their job to do this, to tell me it was fine. They had no idea how scared I was.

My hands were shaking so uncontrollably as I untied the blind fold, letting it flutter to the ground as my eyes took in the sight before me.

My perfect man was lying on the ground, covered in dirt, his hair matted and face bruised. As I let my eyes travel down his body I felt nauseous as they stopped at his stomach.

A large pool of blood was gathered around him, glistening under that perfect starlight, taunting me.

I couldn't even cry, I just sat there, not even thinking, like a blank slate. Time seemed to stop.

The sirens and voices were distant, and the touches were numb, all I could do was stare and think about how this was supposed to be the night my life changed for the better, not the worse.

After an endless night at the hospital I was granted the right to go home. I wanted to stay by him, be there with him and his grieving family, that had almost become mine, but the doctors insisted I go home and get cleaned up, seeing how I was still wearing my little black dress from the night before.

I opened the door to my apartment, trying not to notice all of his personal belongings left scattered around my house.

I blocked out his Burberry scarf hanging on the hook, a pair of his favorite shoes, and the very last thing he ever gave me: a red bouquet of flowers, which now reminded me of the pool of blood instead of his everlasting love.

I felt sick and ran to the bathroom, letting out whatever had been left inside of me.

I had become a hollow shell of what I used to be.

I found one of his old tee shirts and slowly put it on, savoring his smell that I would never be able to smell again.

As I lay on my bed, a million thoughts a minute pounded in my head.

Would he have proposed? I'll never know what his surprise was. What kind of future would we have had together? Would our kids have looked more like me or him? Could I have stopped this all from happening?

The tears came again and I let them, trying to rid myself of all the guilt that was slowly eating me away.

And right as I drifted off into the rest of my life, I managed to say a prayer, hoping he would hear.

"God, could you tell him just one thing, that all I ask of him is to remember me as loving him, now, forever and until the end of time."


End file.
